The True Queen of the North
by The Smart Fish Bob
Summary: Sansa Stark wants revenge after Roose Bolton murders her brother, Robb, and her mother. She gets the chance when Petyr Baelish arranges a marriage between her and Lord Bolton's bastard son. After their marriage, Sansa can take back the land that belongs to her family and punish those who wronged the Starks. She is the last true heir to the north.
1. Chapter 1

Sansa sat quietly in the wagon, she knew Petyr was staring at her, and she did not want to make conversation. Petyr was a man with unknown motives, for the most part. But Sansa knew he wanted her. Many men had, and like many men, he would not get her. But now, Sansa was to be wed, and to a Bolton of all people. It disgusted her. Sansa didn't want this marriage, and she knew that she could try to convince Petyr to let her stay with him. Yet, Sansa wasn't sure she wanted to stay with Petry either.

"Do I have to marry him?" She asked, turning her attention to Petyr.

"You'll be home, in Winterfell, my dear,"

Petyr wasn't found of the marriage either. He knew what the Bolton bastard was capable of, and knew what he would want to do to a girl like Sansa. But Petyr would have Sansa eventually, as long as everything worked out the way he thought it would.

"I could stay with you," Sansa almost whispered. She didn't want to stay with Petyr, but it would probably be better than marrying a man who flayed people for fun.

"I wish you could, Sansa, but you cannot." Petyr touched his hand to Sansa's face and curled a piece of her hair in his hand. It disgusted her, but Sansa had learned to hide her disgust.

Petyr leaned in as the wagon began to slow and kissed Sansa. He knew it would be one of the last chances he had to kiss her, so he savored it. When he backed away, the wagon had stopped completely, it was time for the two of them to greet the Boltons.

Sansa and Petyr rode in silence. The cold wind lashed at them, the horses, and everything else. This was the north, this was Winterfell, this was Sansa's home. She would make sure that the traitor Roose Bolton knew that. Sansa was no longer the naïve little girl that left Winterfell a few years ago. She was hardened by the things that had happened to her family and to her, and she wanted the north to be under the rule of a Stark again.

Petyr and Sansa dismounted their horses and stood in front of the two Boltons. Petyr smiled at Roose and shook his hand.

"Lord Bolton, I present to you, Lady Sansa Stark." Sansa smiled, and curtseyed. Her eyes flickered to Lord Bolton's bastard, he was staring at her with intense blue eyes. She extended her hand, and he kissed it, his blue eyes never leaving hers. Compared to Lord Bolton, he was very attractive, and he seemed to be very strong. Yet under it all, Sansa could sense his blood lust.

"Ramsay Bolton, my firstborn." Lord Bolton spoke. Sansa smiled again.

"A pleasure to meet you both." Her words were crisp like the winter air. Petyr and Lord Bolton headed off, with apparent business to attend to, leaving Sansa in the presence of Ramsay. He was still staring at her intently. To ease her mind, Sansa left, thinking about the words and whispers she had heard about the Bolton bastard.

Sansa walked around, but secretly heading towards the forest. Sansa had always loved going into the forest to think when she was a girl, maybe she'd feel the same after so much time. Sansa found a good place to sit and think when she heard footsteps behind her, she turned around, hoping it was no one threatening. It was Petyr, staring at her the way a hawk stares at its prey.

"I'm sorry to frightening you, Sansa." He cooed. Sansa smiled and let her body relax some.

"It's alright, don't worry about it." Petyr walked closer to Sansa and tried to keep her body as relaxed as possible. She had never been this alone with Petyr before, there was always someone close enough to hear her if she yelled for help, and now, there wasn't.

"I'm leaving tonight," Petyr remarked

"So soon?" He nodded, and stood right in front of her. There was hardly any room between the two of them, and Petyr wished desperately that he could close that gap and make Sansa his right where they stood. But, he couldn't, no matter how much he wanted to. Instead, he put his hand on her cheek and pulled her in for a kiss, this one he wanted to make last. He wanted to do so many things, but she was promised to someone else. He pulled away, his left hand still laced in her auburn hair.

"You are so beautiful," He whispered, finally taking his hand out of her hair.

"I'll be married next time we meet." She said as she walked Petyr walk away. Sansa wanted to curse and scream at Littlefinger, but she stopped herself. If she wanted to reclaim the north, she would need alliances, and Littlefinger was a powerful man. Even still, Sansa wished him dead.

Sansa walked back from the forest, her mind wondering. She wanted to be like Margaery. She manipulated Joffrey, and he was a mad man. Margaery would know what to do with a man like Ramsay Bolton. But, it was becoming clear that Sansa was not like Margaery. Instead, Sansa held pent up rage, she wanted to fight, maybe even to kill. She wanted to show no mercy to those who had betrayed her family.

As Sansa headed towards her room, she noticed an open door, leading to what was possibly a strategy room. It was dark, so Sansa knew that no one would be in there. Her heart pounded as she slowly crept into the dark room, her eyes darted to the long table. There it was. The Boltons game of war. Sansa walked towards it, her hands touching the edge of the table, gliding along the edge. It was here that they planned to kill her brother. She picked up one of the pieces, the crest of the Bolton family—The flayed man. Sansa shook her head.

"I will avenge you brother, one day." Her voice was quiet, but she said the words with strength and finality. Sansa placed the flayed man back onto the table, shaking her head once more. Then, the door slammed shut. Sansa shuttered, wondering who heard her say those words.

"Don't let father catch you saying that." His voice rang out in the dark. Sansa was frightened, the most she had been since she'd arrived. She was alone and in the dark with Ramsay Bolton, a man known as the mad dog.

"I won't." Her lips trembled as she stumbled, using the table as a guide. Suddenly, she ran into something blocking her from inching farther along the table. It was an arm. She tried going back, but he had placed his other arm there, trapping her between him and the table. A candle lit behind her, and she saw his face. His blue eyes staring at her like they were earlier, only know they had an emotion she could not understand behind them, and on his breath she could smell the wine. He was most definitely drunk.

"Are you going to avenge your brother?" He asked, moving his face closer to hers.

"No, I'm not." He nodded, and leaned in, kissing her. His hands moved to cup her face, and he pushed himself closer to her. He pulled away, leaning in to whisper in her ear,

"I want you, Sansa Stark."

"Many men have, and yet, they did not have me." Her response was almost a growl. Ramsay looked up, smiling that strange smile of his. "But I will."

"Maybe." His smile grew at this, and he kissed her once more, grabbing her hip in one hand and her chin in the other. Sansa knew that she didn't want to marry Ramsay, but it seemed easy to please him. He was rather stupid while drunk though, and that frightened her.

Ramsay pulled away, then stumbled out the door, leaving Sansa to navigate to her room. She went to bed quickly, as she had a big day tomorrow.


	2. Chapter 2

Sansa awoke just after sunrise. She was still tired, and desperately wanted a bath. The day she had yesterday was eventful, to say the least. Petyr Baelish had sent her to wed the son of the man that killed her brother. _Roose Bolton murdered my brother_. She repeated the words in her head over and over again. She wouldn't forget what he had done, and she would be glad to stab him in the back as well.

A knock came at the door and Sansa sighed. She had to pretend to love her soon to be new family so early in the morning.

"Come in." Her voice was drained of emotion, but she didn't care. An elderly woman walked in, her eyes glued to the floor. In her had was a tiny scroll.

"From Lord Ramsay Bolton." She whispered, her eyes moving up to meet Sansa's.

"Thank you, you can leave it on the vanity. Also, may you draw me a bath." The maid nodded, placed the scroll down, and hurried out.

Sansa slipped out of bed, her feet touching the cool ground. She wasn't very comfortable in her nightgown, as it was very cold, even in the castle. She picked up the scroll, slightly worried about what it would say.

_My lady, I would be pleased if you could join my father and mother at dinner tonight. We all would be glad to dine with you._

_Sincerely, Ramsay_

Sansa wasn't too worried about a dinner, no alone time would be spent with her and Ramsay or her and Lord Bolton. Sansa was also eager to meet Ramsay's step mother, Walda Frey. Thinking about her made her wonder how Walder Frey would react upon losing a child. Sansa wanted to deal out justice to more than just Roose Bolton, she wanted to make Walder Frey suffer, she wanted to wipe the smirk off of Cersei Lannister's face. She wanted them to understand exactly how she felt, and more.

Another knock came at the door, pushing Sansa's thoughts of vengeance away.

"Come in." She called. Sansa was not in the mood to have a conversation and hoped it was the maid with her bath. It was. The maid quickly prepared and scuttled away. Sansa undressed, and stepped into the warm water. It felt good against the frigid air, and Sansa was glad to have more time to sit and think.

Her wedding was soon, and she needed to find a way to not suffer the way she had in King's Landing. She wouldn't let someone treat her like toy again. This time, she would earn the respect of her future husband, and use him to get her goals. And she had plenty of goals. Sansa

Stark was no longer the girl she was in King's Landing, now she knew her place, and it wasn't to sit and do nothing while the rest of her bloodline was destroyed. Her place was the rule the north.

Again, her thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. Sansa got up, and but her robe on.

"Come in." A different maid walked in, holding a gown. It was beautiful, a traditional northern dress. The dress was dark purple with a pattern going through it. With it was a black coat lined with fur.

"Thank you." Sansa whispered as she took the dress. She gently placed it on her bed, and decided to wear something different while she was wondering the castle. She picked a simple black dress. Sansa left her hair down and left her room.

Sansa felt relaxed as she travelled down to the crypt underneath Winterfell. There the air was cool and moist, but the wind and snow weren't there, making it more comfortable than being out in the open. Sansa walked past the former lords and ladies of Winterfell, her feet coming to a stop in front of her aunt's statue. Sansa had never met her aunt Lyanna, but she knew she was beautiful, but also a true wolf at heart. Some people had mentioned that Sansa was just as beautiful as she was. Sansa almost doubted that, as the statue of her was more beautiful than Sansa in flesh and bone.

Next the her aunt's statue was a blank place, there were a few around her. They were supposed to eventually have her siblings next to her. Sansa's father should be next to her. Robb deserved a place in the crypt as well, but Sansa knew with Lord Bolton still alive that would never happen. _Maybe it could_, she mused to herself. She was having dinner with him soon. What did the Bolton's do to earn the key to the north? Sansa could ask for her father and brother to have their statues in the crypt as a wedding present from the warden of the north. Sansa smiled thinking about it. If she had learned one thing from Littlefinger, it was how to manipulate people.

As Sansa headed to exit the crypt, a woman blocked her way. She had plain brown hair and eyes, but she was fairly pretty. Her clothes made her look like a whore, but Sansa knew a whore wouldn't wear things that cheap.

"Who are you?" Sansa asked, her voice devoid of emotion.

"My name is Myranda, M'Lady." Myranda didn't seem trustworthy.

"And why are you here?"

"To escort you back to your room."

"Very well then." Sansa walked towards the exit, and Myrand began to lead the way. But quickly Sansa could tell Myranda wasn't taking her back to her room, she was taking her to the forest.

Myranda stopped and stared at Sansa, her breathing quickening. Sansa wasn't interested in a fight, but she could break this girl's heart in a second.

"Do you know what he's like?" She asked, her eyes gleaming, "Do you know what he is going to do to you?"

"Ramsay? I don't know what he's like, but I've heard the rumors." Myranda smiled at this answer. Sansa was just bored at this point. "He's going to break you. He'll beat you, rape you, cut you, and when he's done with you feed you to the dogs." Sansa smiled sweetly at Myranda, bored of the little games the peasant girl was trying to play.

"Myranda was it? Well, Myranda, I know you love him, but I doubt he loves you. How could he love you when he's marrying Sansa Stark of Winterfell tomorrow? I'm the key to the north, what are you? Boring." Myranda's smile faded. She no longer was in control of what was happening, and Sansa guessed that frightened her. Sansa turned away and headed back to the castle. She had to get ready to have dinner with her new family.

The dinner had already started when Sansa arrived, but she wanted to make an entrance. The dress did wonders for her body, making her look better than she would normally. To frame her face Sansa left her hair down, only braided a small crown at the back of her head. When she walked in she got the reaction she was hoping for.

Ramsay smiled wickedly at her, Lord Bolton looked longingly, and Walda gasped. Exactly what she wanted. Sansa had shocked everyone in the room. Sansa took a seat across from Lord Bolton and next to Ramsay, she smiled at him, then turned to face the rest.

"I'm very sorry that I'm late." She wasn't going to act timid, especially now. Ramsay nodded.

"That's fine." Sansa smiled at him again. He turned to his father and they shared a look. Sansa wasn't sure what it meant. The dinner began, immediately Ramsay went for the wine, he was a heavy drinker, but he wasn't nearly as bad as Tyrion Lannister. His drinking was controlled and Sansa could tell that he restrained himself in front of his father.

At some point Ramsay placed his hand of Sansa's leg. She glanced at him and saw him smiling. She was starting to hate that smile.

"I have a gift for you." He announced, taking his hand away. Sansa looked to where he was gesturing, and there he was, slithering out of the shadows, Theon Greyjoy. The disgust was obvious on her face. "I punished him for killing your two little brothers, Brandon and Rickon. Aren't you glad I did?" Sansa gave him a death glare.

"Come here." There was only rage in her voice when she addressed Theon. He scuttled over, never making eye contact with her. Sansa stood up, and all eyes were on her now. Ramsay was almost proud. "You deserve worse than whatever he did to you, traitor." She spat. Ramsay chuckled,

"You're dismissed, Reek." Theon hurried away like a dog with its tail between its legs. Sansa stood still, her heart racing. She was furious. She sat down when she noticed the Bolton's staring.

Sansa ate some more food, not making eye contact. When she finally did, she looked at Lord Bolton.

"Lord Bolton, could I ask for a wedding gift?" Lord Bolton was surprised by this request.

"What is it?" He asked, curious to what she might be reaching for.

"My brother and father to be buried in their rightful place in the crypt underneath Winterfell." Lord Bolton was very surprised. Sansa Stark was a good match for Ramsay afterall.

"My Lady-" He began.

"My father was the warden of the north before you, he deserves that much respect. And as for my brother, should I remind you who you used to serve under? The man the people used to rally under? Should I continue?" Lord Bolton was impressed by her boldness.

"I can arrange something." Sansa smiled sweetly, pretending as if her sudden rashness had not happened.

"Thank you, My lord." Sansa turned to look at Ramsay, who was smiling, his eyes conveying emotion she hadn't seen before. Sansa thought he almost looked proud of her.

"Since we're all announcing things tonight, Walda and I have some news," Lord Bolton took Walda's hand and looked at the pair in front of him, "Walda is having a baby." Ramsay no longer looked pleased. His smile didn't drop though. He poured more wine.

"Congratulations on your child, mother." He whispered. Sansa nodded.

"I wish you the best of luck with your pregnancy." Walda Frey seemed to be sweet enough, but Sansa could only think of slitting her throat, it was the only thing she thought about when her eyes laid on the fat Frey girl.

After the dinner Sansa decided to wanted to retreat to her room, and quickly. She had much to think about. If Walda gave birth to a boy, then where would her place be? Married to the bastard son? She didn't think so. She didn't want that. As Sansa walked down a hallway, someone grabbed her arm and shoved her against a wall.

"What you did back there was amazing, proving that your more than just a name to my father." Ramsay held Sansa against the wall.

"I don't know how your father managed to put a child in that fat Frey bitch, but if it's a boy, you're going to be _fucked_, bastard." Ramsay didn't like being called bastard. He shoved Sansa against the wall, and looked up to see into her eyes.

"What do you suppose we do about that?"

"Kill the bitch and kill your father too." Sansa could feel her blood boiling, killing Roose Bolton and Walda Frey would give her justice. But at this point, there was more to it. She wanted Roose Bolton's head on a spike and Walda's head sent to her father.

"It won't be easy." Ramsay whispered, he was impressed with his soon to be bride. Her blood lust made him want her.

"Kill your father, become warden of the north, and then give Walder Frey a message from me, his daughter's head." Ramsay smiled, he released Sansa's arms, only to place his hands on her hips and kiss her. She kissed him back. If he could do that for him, she could feign wanting him. Ramsay broke away from the kiss, then left. Sansa didn't want to be near Ramsay Bolton, and she certainly didn't want to marry him, but, for now, it was the option that lead to reclaiming the north.


	3. Chapter 3

Sansa woke up early again. Today was her wedding day. She did not want to marry Ramsay Bolton. She knew that everything Myranda said was true, he would do horrible things to her, and Sansa didn't know if she was ready for that. Sansa didn't want that to happen to her, but there wasn't exactly a way. With the mood she was in, she didn't want to get out of bed. She wanted to stay hidden under the covers and pretend she was at home and that her mother would come tell her to wake up soon. Sansa felt her eyes get warm with tears. She wouldn't cry for her family until she had avenged them.

Someone knocked at Sansa's door. She didn't want to talk to anyone, not even maids. But, whoever was at the door opened it anyways. Sansa didn't look to see who it was, instead she stayed in bed where it was nice and warm. Sansa rolled over when she heard footsteps coming closer to the bed. It was an old woman, she had a faint smile on her lips.

"If you're ever in trouble light a candle in the highest window of the broken tower and help will come."

"Who are you?" Sansa asked

"The north remembers." At this the elderly woman departed, leaving Sansa alone to think. Sansa wanted to rule the north, but, could she rule all of Westeros? She doubted the Bolton's had enough men to take King's Landing, but, with her name, she could gain support. Sansa had heard the rumors about her brother in the north. The wildlings that owed their life to him. That was an army. But to get the support of her brother, Sansa would have to leave Winterfell, and she knew Ramsay wouldn't let her go once they were wed. He was rather fond of his property.

Sansa sighed, there were so many things she had to do, and she didn't have enough time to do any of it. Sansa had to marry Ramsay to get the support of him and his army, kill Lord Bolton, convince Ramsay to kill Stannis Baratheon, run away from Winterfell, then convince her brother to join forces with the son of the man who killed their brother, then, take the north. The game of thrones was a high stake game after all, where would she be if didn't take a risk?

Today was her wedding day, and Sansa had to make sure she gained the respect of her future husband, in her mind, it was the only way she'd be able to control him. She was probably right about that, but she had already started to gain his respect, she insulted his father and proved that she wasn't a coward. Sansa would not let Ramsay break her.

Thinking about this frustrated Sansa, and she went to pour herself a cup of wine. She suddenly realized why Ramsay drank so much, it was the same reason her previous husband drank so much. Both were the sons of great men and could never live up to their expectations, they were disappointments, and being disappointments shaped them in very different ways. Both were always trying to prove themselves, but Ramsay became filled with rage and took in out in his torture, whereas Tyrion let his hate boil, never doing much about it. Sansa didn't know if she lived up to what her parents wanted, she certainly hoped she did.

Sansa kept drinking, then put on a brown dress and headed down to the kennels. The kennels smelled like rotting flesh, and Sansa learned quickly what they were fed, and by whom. She pushed the thought out of her mind and walked to the very back of the kennel, where in one of the cages was a slumped body, the slumped body of Theon Greyjoy. Sansa tried to muster pity, but it was hard, he had murdered her innocent brothers. Rickon and Brandon were children.

"Theon." Sansa shook the body and saw his eyes open, they were bloodshot and watering.

"My lady, you need to leave." Theon looked around, his eyes wild, like the caged animal he was.

"Why did you do it?" Sansa's eyes filled with tears as she questioned Theon. She asked the question that had kept her up countless nights.

"I'm sorry, My Lady." Theon's voice was harsh, like he hadn't drank any water in a long time. Sansa shook her head, not liking the answer he gave her. "You were like family to us, Theon!" Tears streamed down her face now, the anger that she thought she felt turning into the fear and sadness that she hid inside.

"It's Reek!" Theon screeched, shaking his head at Sansa. Sansa banged his chest with her fist, not hard, but enough to show Theon that the only thing holding Sansa together was the hate she held for the people that wronged her family.

"Your name is Theon Greyjoy and you betrayed my family and killed my brothers!" Sansa let her hands dangle by her sides, defeated. "We loved you." Her voice was barely above a whisper, but the power in those three words was strong. Sansa shook her head and stood up, not wanting to be near the shell of man that used to be Theon Greyjoy.

Sansa went to the only place she could be alone, the crypt below Winterfell. No one would disturb a woman morning her family, and she knew it. It was similar to how she would pray in King's Landing so no one would talk to her. Sansa's feet guided her to the statue of her aunt Lyanna. She looked at the cold stone and wondered if that was the future that she had. Dying young but being immortalized under Winterfell. Sansa didn't want that future.

A candle was resting in Lyanna's hand, but it had gone out. Sansa replaced the candle with a new one, this one flickering in the wind. It cast shadows everywhere, awakening the crypt and giving it new life. Sansa wondered how often her father visited her aunt. How many times had her father stood in the spot she knew stood in? Sansa didn't want to dwell in the past, but it was hard. Sansa kneeled on the ground, finally feeling at peace. But here, peace doesn't last.

Sansa could hear footsteps approaching. She didn't care who it was, as long as they didn't disturb her.

"Robb and Eddard will have statues in here soon." A voice cut through the air, ruining Sansa's silence.

"I'm glad to hear that, Lord Bolton." Sansa said, standing to face Roose Bolton.

"Why would you want the statue of traitors in here?" Sansa held her temper down.

"They're my family, and I love them." Lord Bolton nodded, walking closer to Sansa.

"Did you hear the rumors about your brother? How they sewed his direwolf's head onto his body?"

"I've heard them. I'm sure you'd know if they were true, since you were at the Red Wedding." Lord Bolton smiled at Sansa.

"The rumors are true." Sansa nodded, the hate she had been trying to conceal was ready to show its head.

"If my brother is a traitor, what are you?" Sansa tried not to yell the words, but there was anger behind them.

"I sided with the Lannisters, therefore, not a traitor." Sansa chuckled and walked forward, standing right in front of Lord Bolton.

"You sided with them at the end. What was in it for you? Becoming the warden of the north? That all?" Lord Bolton could see the fire behind Sansa's icy blue eyes. It reminded him of Ramsay.

"I'll see you tonight, Lady Sansa." Lord Bolton left the crypt, leaving Sansa alone, her thoughts racing on the most painful way to kill him. How to make him suffer. She wanted to break every bone in his body then make him run while Ramsay's hounds chased him down. But, Sansa had to push those thoughts out of her head. She had to get ready for her wedding.

Sansa sat in a hot bath while a maid scrubbed her back. She wasn't sure how tonight would go, and she was almost frightened. She didn't want to the Bolton's to see her weakness, but it was standing in plain sight. While the maid washed Sansa's hair, she thought about running away from all of the madness, stripping herself of her title and giving herself a new name. A fresh start would be wonderful, but Sansa knew she would never be able to get a fresh start. If she left Winterfell the Bolton's would be looking for her and the Lannisters would want her hanged for killing Joffrey. She didn't kill Joffrey, but wished she did.

The maid helped Sansa dress then immediately left. Sansa looked at the dress, it was beautiful, and she knew all eyes would be on her tonight. She looked like a bride. The door opened and she turned to seen Theon standing in the entrance, not looking at her.

"I'm here to escort you, My Lady," His voice was distant, "Will you take my arm?"

"No." Sansa spoke flatly. She didn't want to touch him.

"Please, if you will, My Lady."

"I will not take your arm."

"He'll hurt me if you don't." Theon's lip quivered at this. Sansa stepped closer to him, leaning in to make sure he knew the way she felt.

"Why should I care what he does to you?" Theon shrunk into himself as Sansa stepped out the door. He held up his lantern and guided her way.

The path to the Godswood was long and covered with snow. Lanterns lined the path, and Sansa walked slowly behind Theon. She was having several doubts about her wedding. Ramsay Bolton was an attractive man, but just below the skin he was a sadistic bastard who enjoyed torturing people. Sansa sighed as her and Theon walked over a hill, Ramsay and Lord Bolton could now be seen, along with a crowd of people. Sansa had to push back any doubts about her marriage, because it was happening.

Sansa know stood in front of the Godswood, about to marry Ramsay Bolton.

"Who comes before the old gods this night?" Lord Bolton's deep voice interrupted the sounds of birds during the cold night.

"Sansa, of the house Stark, comes here to be wed, a woman grown trueborn and noble, she comes to beg the blessing of the gods. Who comes to claim her?" Theon never looked up from the ground.

"Ramsay of house Bolton, heir to the Dreadfort and Winterfell. Who gives her?" Ramsay had stepped forward before he began to speak, and Sansa was becoming more nervous with each moment.

"Theon of house Greyjoy, who was her father's ward." There was something in Theon's voice that made Sansa wonder if he felt remorse.

"Lady Sansa, do you take this man?" Lord Bolton looked at Sansa, and she realized she wasn't ready, she stood for a few moments, her heart pounding. She stepped forward.

"I take this man." A smile spread of Ramsay's lips, and Sansa tried to smile back.

"Lord Ramsay, do you take this woman?" Lord Bolton looked at this son, and Ramsay smiled even more, never taking his eyes away from Sansa.

"I take this woman." The crowd began to applaud. Sansa let out the breath she was holding. She looked back at Ramsay, he took her arm as they headed to the feast. The newlyweds sat at a table above the rest, with Lord Bolton and Walda Frey sitting next to them. Sansa felt the air become less full of tension and more joyful. She relaxed as the room was filled with laughter and drinking. Sansa herself was ready to enjoy the night. She turned towards Ramsay and the pair began to talk and laugh, and Sansa was no longer afraid of the man they called the mad dog.

Too soon the dinner ended, and Ramsay led Sansa to his room. The smile on his face showed that he was excited for this. He opened the door for Sansa, and she walked in. The room was larger than hers, and was lit by candle light. On the bed was a marvelous fur blanket. She still was nervous for what was about to happen.

"Are you pleased?" Sansa looked over at Ramsay as he closed and locked his bedroom door.

"I am, my lord." Ramsay nodded, and walked towards her, his hands behind his back.

"My father said you were a virgin, is this true?" Sansa opened her mouth, confused by the questioning.

"I am, my lord." Ramsay nodded again, moving closer to her, again.

"Why are you a virgin? Afraid of dwarves?" Ramsay chuckled, and took a few more steps, closing the gap between him and Sansa.

"I suppose so, my lord."

"We are man and wife now, so there's no need to lie to me. You aren't lying, are you? That would be a bad way to start a marriage, lying to your husband on his wedding night."

"I'm not lying to you, my lord." Ramsay smiled at Sansa, and gently kissed her.

"Good, now, take off your clothes." Sansa turned away from Ramsay and walked towards the bed, and began to take off her dress.

Sansa's dress slipped off, falling to the ground. Ramsay walked towards her, placing his hands on her hips. She looked over her shoulder to face him. He smiled at her and began to kiss her neck, then down her shoulder, biting softly as he did so. Sansa was a little scared and very nervous. Ramsay took off his shirt, and it landed next to her dress. Goosebumps formed over her naked body as Ramsay turned her around to face him. He looked her up and down a few times, then suddenly reached for her hair. He took her hair out of the bun in was in, and it cascaded down her back. Sansa's heart was pounding so loud she thought he could hear it.

Ramsay began to unbuckle his belt, as he did so, he pushed Sansa onto the bed. She looked at him and he crawled into bed with her. He kissed her, and hard. He had been waiting for this moment.

"Since you're a virgin, I'll be gentle." He whispered in her ear. Sansa hoped he was being truthful. Ramsay spread Sansa's legs, then kissed down her stomach, before he got past her belly button, he stopped, looked her in the eyes, and smiled wickedly. He thrust inside of her, and Sansa winced. Ramsay grabbed her hips, he was grunting softly. Sansa moved her hands onto his back, scratching down. He seemed to like that. He wasn't lying about being gentle, and Sansa actually began to enjoy it. She moaned softly into Ramsay's ear, and he began to pick up the pace. His thrusting got harder, and Sansa arched her back, moaning. Ramsay grunted louder, and suddenly Sansa was filled with warmth, and he pulled out. He fell down on the bed next to her, kissed her, then fell asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Sansa awoke, her eyes settling on her new husband. She wasn't sure what the days ahead would have in store for her, but she felt confident. She got out of bed as Ramsay sat up in bed.

"Leaving?" He said, his voice cloudy. Sansa chuckled.

"Just getting up." Ramsay got dressed and left. Sansa began to wonder how she could reclaim the North. It would be hard, but Sansa knew what she had to do. She had never murdered a man before, but she would do what she had to.

Sansa's plan wasn't complicated. The only way for Ramsy to become the ruler of the North would be for his father to die, and that could be arranged. Once Ramsay was in control of the North, it wouldn't be hard for him to be disposed of.

Once she was dressed Sansa walked through the halls, wondering if she would run into Lord Bolton, as she had in the crypt. The memory of the crypt made Sansa wonder if he would follow her if she went there. It wasn't ideal for Sansa to murder Lord Bolton in the crypt, so she decided that she should go outside, on the pathway that was high above the ground.

Sansa shivered in the cold, wondering if waiting for Lord Bolton in the freezing air was worth it. Just as she thought it, he appeared. His demeanor was the same as it always was. Lord Bolton walked towards Sansa, a sly smile spreading across his face.

"And to what do I owe the pleasure?" Lord Bolton greeted, raising one of Sansa's hands to his lips. Sansa was disgusted by Lord Bolton, and even more disgusted by his touch.

"The pleasure is certainly mine," Sansa replied, her icy blue eyes standing out against the white world around them. Sansa's hatred for Lord Bolton was ready to spill over. He was complacent with the murder of her brother and mother, he deserved no sympthy. Sansa would never again show a traitor sympathy.

"What brings you out here?" Lord Bolton questioned, he was concerned that Sansa planned to run away, but he knew not to underestimate her, after all, she was a Stark.

"I was just clearing my mind, Lord Bolton." Sansa smiled bitterly. If she was going to make a move against Lord Bolton, it was now. Sansa kicked Roose Bolton in the back of the knee, causing him to collapse over the railing.

"This is for my family." Sansa whispered in his ear. Then, without another thought, she shoved him over the ledge. Sansa leaned over, and saw blood staining the white ground. Lord Bolton was dead.


End file.
